


Lovely Broken Pieces

by AnaNovak (mxrvelled)



Series: Dom!Tony, sub!Loki [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Body Worship, Dom Tony Stark, Dom/sub, Gags, Internal Monologue, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Power Dynamics, Sub Loki, Tony Stark is an Atheist, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:04:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxrvelled/pseuds/AnaNovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony Stark reflects on the concepts of extreme power and how exhausting it is, as demonstrated by Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovely Broken Pieces

It never ceased to amaze Tony how innocent Loki could manipulate himself into looking; if he wanted to, of course. If he didn’t absolutely intend to look innocent, he most definitely wouldn’t appear that way.

But now, for example. The expression in Loki’s eyes- Tony could only describe it as reverent. It was as if Loki was hanging on to Tony’s every word, every gesture, every tiny shift in position, like it all mattered to him. This, Tony realized, was the difference between the Loki he had first met and the Loki he saw before him now. Months ago, when the Avenger had first met the alien, he had been shocked at the lack of care in his eyes. Not hatred, just dull, empty, sociopathic lack of care; it was if nothing that could happen to him would really affect him. Such a sharp contrast the how Tony saw him now: vulnerable but powerful, weakened but still strong, the embodiment of oxymoron.

The god’s eyes like emeralds glowed as he looked up at Tony. His hair, not slicked back like it so often was, hung in his face, making a stark contrast against his pale, smooth skin. The genius trailed his hand softly over the crown of Loki’s head, ever so gently stroking his hair. He felt the man press up against his hand, the ebony-and-marble-colored man wordlessly begging for every touch.

Not that the wordless part was by his own design, of course. Or, rather, it was, but had been assisted much by Tony. The almost-pure-looking white ball gag that rested serenely in the former’s mouth cast enough of a spell of silence over him. ‘Comforting’, Loki had called it. Again, it was so different from his usual facade: all silver tongues and sharp remarks. Tony supposed it would be nice to take a break from that usual stereotype of being the liar, to just reside in silence. Just as it was Loki’s escape to worship, instead of being worshipped. Tony found it almost ironic that the man who so desired idolization from the masses would so smoothly fall into the role of submission. Found escape in it, even.

The hand of the mortal man fell from the other man’s head, instead caressing his cheek. The other shifted his weight from knee to knee, rolling his shoulders though the cuffs that linked his wrists behind his back with two electromagnets inhibited much movement.

“Shh, princess,” Tony cooed softly, watching the other for any slight signal, any movement, any expression, anything to indicate whether or not this little exercise of theirs was in fact working. This little nickname, ‘princess’, was originally an object of humiliation for Loki, but he’d slowly grown to love it, though he was too proud to ever dare admit it himself. It was evident in the way his back would stiffen with pride at the term. _Yes, he was Tony’s princess._

“It’s okay, princess.”

“You’re doing so well, princess.”

“There you go, princess.”

Yet another thing Loki would never admit, but that even Tony didn’t miss immediately: this was an important part of the process for the former. As much as the concept of possession, of submission, made him feel ‘evened out’ (in his own words), Tony highly suspected he wouldn’t be able to make it through these sessions without these little meaningless praises. As he spoke softly, he payed close attention to Loki- he saw the slight hint of a tremble in his arms, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. Just as it was relieving to him to be restrained and silenced, it also took so much out of him. Tony had been hesitant at first, for exactly this reason, but he’d learned to watch for signs, to see exactly how much Loki could take.

Tony had also learned to keep a stopwatch function on his phone.

Loki’s record for sessions like this sat evenly at fifty minutes, six seconds. Loki was getting better.

Tony readjusted his sitting position, never taking his eyes from Loki’s. Sitting like this, the Midgardian perched on the bed and the Asgardian prostrated on his knees in front of the former, it was almost impossible to ignore the raw dynamic of power suspended in the air.

Then, after just a few more seconds, Loki’s trembling hand dropped the gold-tinted glass marble he held.

On cue, Tony rushed to him, deft fingers disabling the magnetic cuffs and unbuckling the gag with precision. Loki collapsed forward, then straightened up again to look at Tony, who gingerly helped him to stand, then to sit on the bed. The mortal man’s tanned, weathered hand rested gently on Loki’s bare, pale, hairless thigh. The god slumped against Tony, which made yet another sharp contrast against the posture evident from his royal upbringing.

After a few moments of simply listening to Loki’s steadily-slowing breathing, Tony inquired softly, “How did it feel this time?”

After just a few more moments, the other answered, “Good. It- it really helps, I think. Thank you.”

Though Tony had at first been hesitant to help Loki through this drastic means, he couldn’t bear to think of anyone else seeing Loki like this. It was almost a possessive train of thought; there was something remarkably intimate about this. It definitely more erotic for Tony than it should have been.

Of course, the gag and the cuffs- to an outside glance, elements of bondage- would be erotic to most, but for Tony… he supposed it was something about (again) how stark a contrast this version of Loki made against the other personas of Loki. He knew Loki didn’t see it that way, being as this was only a method of release for him, but still. Tony absolutely could not even think about anyone else seeing Loki like this.

Tony carefully looked over Loki, making sure that visibly he was okay; his formerly rapid breathing and pulse had calmed and he no longer had that flush of humiliation that had previously graced his cheeks.

“You’re welcome, Loki-motion.”


End file.
